Dare
by p0ck3tf0x
Summary: He had never been fond of horror stories and here he was acting one out… All for the love of a dare. Matthew would never live it down if he turned back now but some monsters are real and Gilbert is one of them.


_**Synopsis:**__ He had never been fond of horror stories and here he was acting one out… All for the love of a dare._

_**Dedication: **__I want to dedicate this piece to everyone who has been keeping an eye on me, with special regards to Mayurei 13, DarkmoonSigel, soulglutton98, Tweaks, and to the many reviewers I have not been able to respond to as of late. All of my love._

_Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after 'World Domination Phase 3' is complete._

_The image attached was drawn by MapleVogel. She has done quite a few pieces for my stories and I love each and every one of them. I have her permission to use it as a cover illustration. Thank you!_

* * *

**Dare**

"I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life."

Matthew stood in front of the wrought iron gates and examined the oversized padlock. His fingers were numb with cold and the rusting metal was colder still.

"Chicken."

"I am not," Matthew snarled and twisted to glare at his brother. Alfred was leaning on a mutual friend of theirs with a self satisfied smirk. He had come to make sure that Matthew did not back out on a ridiculous dare and he was having a wonderful time despite the weather.

"Are too," he replied.

Arthur seemed torn between boredom and irritation. His arms were crossed over his chest with his hands folded under for warmth. It was well after midnight and Matthew was sure that he had better places to be on the weekend.

"Just open the damn gate," Arthur growled.

"What do you think I am trying to do?! It's locked. That's _kind_ of the _point_."

"Then hop the fence."

Matthew cocked a meaningful eyebrow and raised his head to stare at the top of the gates and the surrounding fence. It was at least fifteen feet high and decorated with alternating thorns and spikes. He wondered if someone had sharpened them.

"Thank you, Arthur. That's a brilliant idea." His sarcasm was palatable.

"Chicken."

"Alfred, I swear... Fine."

"You'll do it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice. You can climb the fence _or_ we can tell everyone that you chickened out... Just like I knew you would."

There was nothing that Matthew wanted more at the moment than to prove his brother wrong. Alfred tucked his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders with a smile. He knew that he was pushing Matthew over the edge; he had been the one to get them into trouble since the two of them were small.

Arthur stomped his boots and kicked up a light dusting of snow.

"Make up your mind, then. It's fucking freezing."

Matthew returned his sights to the gates that seemed to stretch up forever and rubbed his hands together for warmth. He was not one to be led on like this but high school would do that…

High school could make fools of the best of them.

He wrapped his bare fingers around the wrought iron and swallowed a scream; it was so cold that he thought his fingertips might stick. He glanced back at his brother.

"Chicken."

Matthew gritted his teeth and began to climb without grace.

"I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life," he murmured under his breath as his brother whistled and howled. He knew that Alfred would be making lewd gestures behind his back.

He revised his mantra.

"I hate my brother. I hate my brother. I hate my brother."

* * *

Matthew fought the urge to knock on the front door of the abandoned house. There was no need to be polite.

The steps beneath his feet were rotten and crumbling and the handrail had toppled into the overgrown bushes. The paint was peeling and the house was covered in vines. The shutters were hanging by a single hinge and the windows behind them seemed to be boarded up.

It was a classic haunted house and Matthew was somewhat disappointed at the lack of gravestones or foreboding lightning in the distance.

He glanced back to the wrought iron gates and his brother. Alfred was waving at him and shouting something that was lost on the wind. The dreadful fence that surrounded the estate was at least an acre or two from the house and Alfred and Arthur were safe on the other side.

Matthew was covered in scratches from his scramble up and subsequent fall from the top of the gates. His hands were raw and bleeding from his landing, his knees were also bleeding, and he was positive that he had twisted his ankle. It did not hurt much now but it would in an hour. He had torn his sweater and it had been inadequate against the cold _before_ there was a generous hole in the fabric.

It could have been worse. He could have broken his neck.

Matthew raised an absentminded hand to the door again and paused. He had to keep reminding himself that there was no need to knock. No one was home.

At least… He hoped that no one was home.

His brother was laughing in the distance and Matthew clenched his teeth. He tried the handle and was surprised to find that the front door opened with ease. He glanced back one more time at his last chance to back out before sighing and stepping through the entrance with his brother's laughter still ringing in his ears.

* * *

Matthew fumbled the flashlight from his pocket with hands that were trembling despite his best intentions. His palms were coated scarlet from his tumble and slick against the plastic flashlight. He had never been fond of horror stories and here he was acting one out.

All for the love of a dare.

The beam from the flashlight seemed weak as he swept it across the parlour. There were boxes of trinkets scattered in hapless piles and white sheets draping the furniture. It was more or less what he had expected from a house that had been abandoned a couple of centuries ago.

The front door slammed shut in the wind and Matthew nearly leapt out of his skin in surprise.

Damn.

He tried not to imagine what might be lurking beneath those unassuming white sheets. There could be monsters or ghosts or rats and he was not sure which one terrified him more.

Matthew was already two steps in when he realized what was missing from the depressing tableau.

There was no dust.

Where was the dust?

He brushed his fingers over the mantelpiece and found them clean.

Where was the dust?

There was a quiet creak from further in the house that startled Matthew more than the slamming door, and then there was another creak, and another.

"Alright. That's fine. It's an old house," he whispered to reassure himself as he crept forward with the flashlight. "Old houses do that."

_Creak. Creak. Creak, creak, creak. _

It sounded like someone walking back and forth.

He wanted nothing more than to bolt back outside but he knew that his brother would be waiting. He would never live it down, not after all of the fuss he had kicked up, if he left after ten minutes.

The teasing would be unbearable and he had enough of that as it was.

He approached the door leading down a corridor and peeked through. It seemed normal enough, despite the lack of dust; it was long with another door or two veering off to the side and a staircase to the second level at the end.

The creaking was coming from upstairs.

"Upstairs... Upstairs is better than downstairs. Upstairs is much better than the basement." His whispered encouragement did little to calm him down.

He passed the first door and found a formal dining area with dreadful, tattered curtains over the boarded windows. The second door led to a kitchen, attached to a small servant's quarters as well as a mud room, and another blocked door. The stove was ancient and part fireplace by design. The pots and pans were hammered copper and cast iron. There was a ceramic tankard and bowl on the counter.

Matthew returned his attention to the staircase.

_Creak, creak, creak._

The sound echoed through the house.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and pointed his flashlight upwards. He could not see past seven or eight stairs because his sputtering flashlight was not bright enough.

_Creak._

Matthew bit down on his lip and began climbing despite the twinge of his wounded ankle and his nagging worries.

"I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life."

* * *

Matthew reached the landing with a sigh. The flashlight was sputtering worse than before and he thought, no, he knew that his brother was responsible. His brother was terrified of horror stories too but, then again, he was not the one trapped in an abandoned house and would have no problem handing his brother a broken flashlight.

He was not the one wrestling with monsters and ghosts and rats.

There was another hall at the top of the staircase that seemed to stretch on and on. There were a dozen doors but all of them were shut tight and each one looked the same as the last.

The creaking was louder now than it had been downstairs and Matthew thought that it must be coming from behind the door at the absolute end of the hall. There was a line of light shining from underneath the door where there should be no light and Matthew promised himself that he would check that door last… If at all.

His hands were shaking worse than ever.

He had come this far. It seemed such a waste to turn back now.

"That's fine… It's alright," he whispered. "It's just a rat."

He ignored the part of his brain screaming that it was an awful large rat to be making so much noise.

He took a step forward.

_Creeeeeak._

Matthew glanced down at his own traitorous feet in horror. The creaking from behind the door stopped; whatever it was had heard him.

"Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, oh, dear." His hands were trembling so much that he dropped the flashlight.

_Thump!_

"Son of a…"

The flashlight hit the floor and spun towards the edge of the stairs. It was teetering on oblivion as it rocked back and forth. His eyes widened.

"Oh, please no. Please, please, please."

It slipped over the edge.

_Thump! Thump! Crash! Thump! Crash!_

Matthew was left standing alone in the darkness and holding his breath. His hands had snapped to his sides and he held himself stiff as a board. He did not dare to move.

The creaking that had stopped began again, quicker than before, and the door at the end of the corridor slammed open in a halo of light. There was a figure silhouetted against the light.

"You!" The figure pointed at him and screeched. Matthew felt his heart stutter. "What are you doing here? You're trespassing!"

Matthew was so shocked that he did not have much time to realize that the world was tilting to the side and darkening around the edges. His vision was swimming. He had a vague impression of the figure stalking toward him. He remembered a flash of crimson before tumbling into darkness and cursing his brother with his last breath.

"I hate my brother…"

* * *

He woke up.

Matthew could not quite remember the reason that was such a surprise but it would come to him… Instead, he took in his surroundings and tried to figure out how he came to be sleeping in a stranger's bed.

The bedroom was spotless and it was clear that it was seldom used but the sheets were clean and smelt of wild flowers. He had been tucked under the covers with care. There was a bookcase with the cracked spines of oft read books and a chest of drawers with a single black and white picture perched on top. It was a picture of a rather severe man frowning at the camera whilst another man was hanging off of his shoulders with a smile. The two of them were seeming opposites but still somehow managed to complement each other. There was a mirror against the far wall that was out of place in the beautiful bedroom; it had splintered into a dozen jagged pieces as if someone had punched it.

Matthew returned his gaze to the picture. The first man was foreign to him, of that he had no doubt, but the second one… He was positive that he had seen the second man before.

Someone unlocked the bedroom door. Matthew sat up and turned to ask the thousand questions on his mind but the questions died on his tongue when he came face to face with the palest man he had ever seen. He was staring down at Matthew with a frown.

His eyes were crimson.

It all came flooding back to him. Matthew recognized the second man in the picture because he was the mysterious figure from the haunted house. He was the monster. His heart stuttered but it did not stop this time.

He was the demon from his bedtime stories; he was that eerie shadow against the windows at midnight. He was all of the horror stories that Matthew and his brother had entertained over the years.

Worst of all… He was real.

Matthew scrambled to the other side of the mattress and clutched the sheets to his chest as if it would protect him.

"Ah!"

"Yes?" The man leant against the doorframe and crossed his arms. He held himself as if he was bored but his eyes were too intense as he watched Matthew.

"I… You… You're not supposed to be here!"

"Oh?" His lips curled as if amused.

"This is an abandoned house!" Matthew was grasping at straws and he knew it. The man was watching Matthew as if deciding whether or not to eat him. It was not a sexual sort of stare, not really; it was literal and obvious, as if he were wondering how Matthew might taste with a bit of barbecue sauce.

It was as if he were wondering whether or not Matthew was delicious.

"Apparently not."

He licked his lips and Matthew whimpered. He had seen this movie and he did not like the ending.

"Please don't eat me." His voice was small as he cradled the sheets closer to his chest.

"Now, that _is_ a surprise. You know what I am."

He said 'what' he was and not 'who' he was. The choice of words did not bode well. Matthew swallowed.

"A monster?"

The corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Yes, yes, but what_ kind_?" He smiled and it all clicked into place. That was it. That was the reason Matthew had been surprised to wake up at all:

His canine teeth were long and pointed.

Matthew had seen enough movies with his brother to know what that meant.

"You're a vampire." His heart dropped through his stomach and the floorboards to the basement below.

"Yes," He hissed the word. The 'vampire' pushed off the doorframe and crawled over the covers. He was graceful whereas Matthew had scrambled minutes before. It was sensual. It was lascivious.

It was dangerous.

"There is no such thing as vampires."

He crawled forward.

"Damn," he was whispering and it sent shivers down Matthew's spine. "I wish someone had told me that two centuries ago."

He was closer than before.

"I…"

Matthew knew he should be running but those peculiar eyes had captured him. The vampire reached him and snatched his hand when Matthew tried to warn him off. His palms were still bleeding from his earlier fall and the vampire ran his tongue over the wound with a shuddering sigh. Matthew flinched. He pushed up his sleeve and kissed the length of his arm, leaving a trail of blood soaked kisses, before reaching the collar of his torn sweater. The vampire threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. He touched their cheeks together and whispered in his ear.

"Boo."

Matthew fainted again.

* * *

Matthew was just as surprised to wake up the second time.

He was even more surprised to find the vampire sitting on the edge of the bed reading one of the books from the bookcase. As if that was not odd enough, he was wearing pink reading glasses. Matthew wondered if all vampires were nearsighted or just this one.

"You didn't eat me." His voice croaked as he pat himself down. He was flabbergasted.

The vampire did not look up from the book.

"You asked me not to."

Matthew pressed his fingers against his neck in question. His skin was a bit rough in one patch. He leapt out from under the covers and went to the cracked mirror. The vampire made no move to stop him.

He was still reading.

Matthew pushed his sweater to the side so that he could better see the left side of his neck. There was a purpling bruise against his skin surrounding two miniscule punctures.

The punctures were almost delicate in comparison to the bruise.

"You gave me a hickey!"

"It's a love bite."

"It's a hickey!" Matthew twirled to face the vampire but he was still reading. He had been scarier before Matthew was overcome with righteous indignation. His brother would never stop teasing him now. "It's a goddamn hickey!"

Matthew stalked over to him and tore the book from his hands. The vampire did look up now and his gaze was somewhat unfocused behind the glasses. He leant back with languid air and granted Matthew a lopsided smile. It was obvious that he was riding a high.

"It's a love bite," he said again with a little more force. "How else does a vampire suck blood?"

"With your teeth!"

"The teeth just break the skin, darling. We're on our own after that."

"So you just…?"

His smile widened.

"_Suck_."

Matthew stared at him with a blank expression and wondered how he could have been afraid of him. He was ridiculous, with his pink reading glasses and his lopsided smile. The whole situation was ridiculous! Perhaps it was easier to be brave in the brightness of the bedroom but Matthew was furious.

He stepped forward to hit the vampire with the confiscated book but his foot twisted with a shooting pain. He had forgotten that he had damaged the ligaments, or perhaps even fractured it, when he fell off of the fence. The adrenaline and endorphins from earlier were wearing thin and leaving the pain in their wake.

"Son of a…" Matthew stumbled forward and the vampire steadied him. Matthew had not even seen him move.

"Be careful." He settled Matthew back onto the mattress.

"'Be careful'? 'Be careful'!? You just took a bite out of me!" He sounded close to hysterics… Oh, that might also explain his sudden bout of courage.

Matthew clutched his ankle and eased his sneaker off of his swelling foot to see the damage. It was mottled black and blue. He supposed that he had been distracted beforehand but the pain was intense now that he had noticed.

The vampire bent over the wound and jabbed the swelling with his finger. Matthew hissed.

"That looks like it hurts."

"It does." He jabbed it again and Matthew slapped his hand. "Stop that."

The vampire shrugged and assumed his earlier languid pose. There was a blush to him that must have come from feeding on his blood. He reminded Matthew of a contented cat with a stomach full of cream.

"It will continue to swell unless we bind it."

"'We?' _You_ want to eat me."

The vampire reached for the bedspread and tore the sheets as if the fabric was wet cardboard. Matthew watched him with wide eyes and curled around his aching foot. How much strength did he possess? How fast was he? He continued to tear the sheets into thin strips.

"If I had wanted to eat you, darling, I would have…"

"Stop calling me that."

"… You've been sleeping for an hour."

"An hour?!" His voice cracked.

"Yes."

The vampire knelt down in front of Matthew with the torn sheets and brushed his protective hands to the side. He handled the swollen foot with care.

"But my brother is waiting outside! Arthur!"

"The blondes at the gate left," the vampire examined the damage with gentle fingers, "about fifty five minutes ago."

"… I am going to kill him."

He glanced up with curious interest.

"Who?"

"Alfred."

He nodded his head and asked the next most logical question.

"How?"

Matthew thought about it.

"I am going to kill him with… with… with a butter knife!"

"Vicious. You must hate him."

"It's worse than that."

"Oh?"

"I love him. He's my brother."

The vampire went back to examining the ankle.

"Ohhh… Yes, I know what you mean. I have a brother too." He pointed behind him in the general direction of the black and white picture.

He began wrapping his ankle with the sheets and Matthew used the chance to consider him. He was still pale but it was less unnatural than it had seemed before; it almost suited him. His face was striking and just this side of handsome. He was exotic.

The vampire tied the winding sheets in a knot and looked up at him from where he was kneeling. His unfocused eyes were emptied of that heat from earlier and all that remained was mild curiosity.

"My name is Matthew." He was not sure why he was telling him his name besides the fact that he had failed to devour him on two separate occasions now. His brother swore up and down that Matthew was naïve but he preferred to see himself as optimistic.

He was also lightheaded from the blood loss and that might be affecting his judgement. Oh well.

The vampire grinned and his pointed teeth bit into his own lip.

"Gilbert."

* * *

Gilbert was not like anyone Matthew had ever met, vampire or otherwise. His mannerisms did not match that of a classic vampire; he was sitting with his legs crossed at the end of the bed and holding his feet in anticipation. He was smiling.

If it were not for the pointed teeth and strange colouring, he could have been a senior at the local high school.

"So?"

"So…?"

"What made you decide to come and visit me?"

"I thought I was 'trespassing'?"

"That was before I took a bite out of you. Now you are more of a… dinner guest."

Matthew pressed his fingers against the bruise on his neck. He would never hear the end of it if his brother saw it but, as he was planning on killing his brother when he got home, it did not matter much.

If he got home.

"How kind." Sarcasm was his modus operandi when he was out of his element and this situation was so far outside of his element that sarcasm was all he had left.

"Look, I am… It's hard to control it sometimes; the blood lust. It's an instinct."

"You could have tried asking me."

Gilbert sighed and the smile slipped a bit.

"Would you have let me?"

Matthew weighed the question.

"No, I guess not."

"See?"

Matthew was sitting across from him at the headboard with his knees drawn up against his chest. His ankle was still throbbing but it felt better now that it had been wrapped.

"You're not what I imagined. For a vampire, I mean."

"Is it disappointing?"

"No, just… Different."

His smile returned and Matthew wanted to touch those teeth. It might have been because the whole situation was surreal or perhaps he had gone insane at last. Both options were more than possible.

* * *

"Where is your brother now?"

"West coast."

"He's not… He's not dead?" It sounded crass and Matthew wanted to take it back but Gilbert just laughed.

"No. Ludwig and his sweetheart live on the west coast."

"But how…?" Gilbert had alluded to a long life span. His brother should have been dust and gone.

"I turned him." He was still smiling but there was a shadow behind his eyes. If Matthew had known him better, he might have said he was ashamed. "I was afraid of spending a lifetime alone; I was more afraid of spending several lifetimes alone."

It made sense to Matthew, although it was hard to condone the decision. He, too, had abandonment issues.

"… Who turned you?"

"I don't remember anymore," Gilbert said but the shadow behind his eyes deepened and Matthew thought that he must. If he did not wish to talk about it, far be it from Matthew to push the matter. He changed the subject.

"Is his sweetheart also a vampire?"

"Feliciano is human."

Matthew thought that Feliciano was a masculine name but it seemed improper to ask. Some of the townspeople were uncomfortable with men who were interested in other men but not Matthew. He had seen how his brother watched Arthur.

He was not straight as an arrow either.

Still, whether or not he was comfortable with his own homosexual tendencies, it was not how he wanted to be remembered at high school. The teasing was unbearable as it was, some of the students might have even suspected him, but he was not about to hand them an excuse.

"A vampire and a human?"

"It's a pair bonding. Vampires seek out mates who are human and form a pairing."

"Why?"

"It makes feeding easier, for one, but… It's for companionship, mostly. We live long lives; too long, sometimes. We need someone to spend them with. Humans who have been bonded to a vampire share our life spans in exchange for their blood."

Matthew let that sink in. It was odd to have such an invaluable source of vampiric lore. His brother would be either terrified or quite jealous of this conversation.

"… Where is your mate?" It was so insensitive that Matthew slapped his hands over his mouth with a gasp, grateful that his palms were crusting over and no longer bleeding. He was horrified and not in the same fashion as a couple of hours earlier; he was embarrassed.

Gilbert just laughed.

"I had one a long time ago. She left me."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. She fell in love with another vampire. She also lives on the west coast."

Matthew plucked at the bandages on his ankle.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

"So then my brother pushed me off the cliff to see if the water was deep enough."

"Was it?"

"No," Matthew frowned. "No, it was not."

* * *

"So, how old _are_ you, exactly?"

Gilbert batted his eyelashes at Matthew.

"A gentleman never asks and a lady never tells."

Matthew snorted and tossed one of the pillows at him.

"Some 'lady' you are…"

* * *

Gilbert was no longer sitting at the end of the bed. He was sitting next to Matthew and leaning against the headboard with the same nonchalant grace that touched all of his movements. He was warmer than Matthew expected.

Perhaps it was because his veins were full of blood that was not his.

* * *

"What is high school like?"

"Hmmm…" Matthew thought about it for a moment but the answer seemed obvious to him. "It's hell."

"Sometimes I think _this_ is hell."

Matthew looked at him but Gilbert was staring at the cracked mirror. He was not sure what 'this' was but he was afraid to ask. This town? This house?

This situation? What was it like to be a vampire, to hunger for blood, to live forever? It was a difficult concept to wrap his head around and he wondered if it was still as complicated after a few dozen decades.

It probably was.

* * *

"Why do you live here? You could live anywhere, why here?"

"Why not here?"

"I cannot wait to leave this town," he plucked at his bandages again. "It seems strange that someone would actually want to live here."

"It's peaceful here. No one bothers me." Gilbert glanced at him. "At least, no one bothered me before tonight."

Matthew blushed and avoided eye contact.

* * *

Gilbert was sitting even closer to him now. His arm was thrown around the back of the headboard. It was not an intimate gesture so much as a companionable one. Some part of Matthew wished it was the former.

It was three in the morning.

Matthew was exhausted but Gilbert was animated. He claimed that no one had visited him in quite some time. Matthew pointed out that if he bit all of his guests, it was no wonder that no one was coming back.

* * *

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yes."

"Can you walk?"

"I'm not sure." Matthew tried to rotate his ankle and flinched. "I don't think so."

"How're you getting home?"

"Ummm…"

* * *

"And then what happened?"

"And then I toured Europe for a couple of decades with a werewolf and an incubus."

"… Okay, now you're just making it up."

"It's the truth!"

"… Sure."

* * *

"So I hid under the bleachers and waited for them to run past."

"Why not challenge them to a duel?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow. Just how old _was_ Gilbert?

"No one does that anymore. Besides, it's never one on one. It's always four, or five, or six on one."

Gilbert growled and the sound was more animalistic than he had probably meant it to be. It sounded like a predator, and an angry one at that.

"Cowards," he hissed. "There is nothing I hate more than cowards."

* * *

"Seriously, how're you getting home?"

"Could you give me a lift?" Matthew tangled his fingers together in bashfulness. He would never ask another student for a ride, never mind a monster, but these circumstances were more than unusual. He wondered what his brother would think when he returned with a twisted ankle and a 'love bite' at dawn.

"Give you a 'lift'? Technically, yes I can."

"'Technically'?"

"Technically."

* * *

"Wait, wait! What are you doing?! Put me down!"

"I'm giving you a 'lift'."

"This is not what I meant!"

Gilbert had thrown Matthew over his shoulder as if he were he were a sack of potatoes and carried him out onto the landing. Matthew was bright red and slapping his open palms against his back but Gilbert refused to let him down. He had scooped Matthew up without warning and was holding him around the back of his knees with his stomach settled across his shoulder.

It was humiliating.

"You're going to fall if you keep wiggling around so much."

"Put me down!"

"No."

Matthew flopped against his back in defeat. He was still lightheaded from the earlier blood loss and struggling while upside down was strenuous.

Part of him trusted Gilbert and the other three parts were screaming that he was a monster. He could be taking him anywhere.

"Please?"

"No.

He started walking down the stairs and Matthew bumped a little with each step.

"This is embarrassing," he mumbled.

"It could be worse. You could be naked."

Matthew felt his face dye another shade darker.

"That would be worse."

"See?"

Gilbert stepped through the parlour and out the front door, closing it behind him. He paused and muttered something about purchasing a deadbolt before continuing down the path. There was more snow than earlier, coating the grass, and Matthew examined the house through his breath. It still seemed haunted but there was an eerie calmness to it that came with the snow. It was almost… picturesque.

The wind was suddenly knocked out of him and it took him a moment of shocked silence to realize that Gilbert had just leapt the fence.

In one bound.

Matthew shivered, but not from the cold. He still did not know what Gilbert was capable of and a couple of hours of pleasant conversation did not change the fact that he was a monster. Matthew really, really liked him but that did not mean he was in safe hands.

And he was _literally _in his hands at the moment.

Gilbert shifted his position to better balance him and kept walking towards the town. His pace was even and surefooted.

"Where do you live?"

Matthew bit his lip before answering. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? Besides, it was not as if he had a choice. His ankle was sprained, for sure, if not fractured.

"Eleven sixty seven Ackerman Street. Do you know it?"

"Of course I do; I'm awesome."

Matthew snorted. He was still not sure if he trusted him but he made him laugh. He enjoyed his company.

And maybe that was enough for now.

* * *

Matthew relaxed into the sway of Gilbert walking and secretly revelled in the contact, awkward as it was. Gilbert had adjusted him a few times but his pace had not slowed and he did not seem tired.

Warmth radiated from his back and Matthew wondered how much of it had to do with the blood he had stolen earlier. He reached up and touched the 'love bite' on his neck. The broken skin had scabbed over but it was still rough beneath his fingers; the purpling bruise would probably be worse tomorrow.

Gilbert approached the edge of town and started down the winding streets with a purpose that assured Matthew that he knew where he was going.

Which was good, because he not see much besides Gilbert's ass from his position.

Not that he was complaining.

* * *

"Do you ever get lonely?" Matthew whispered but he knew Gilbert would hear him anyway. The question had been sitting on his tongue for awhile. Gilbert was so animated and vivacious that it was difficult to picture him alone in that house.

"Yes."

"Why don't you leave?"

"There's nothing waiting for me out here."

"Well… What about me?"

Gilbert stumbled for the first time and came to a screeching halt. Matthew slammed into his back with a whimper.

"You?"

"Well… Yes, me."

Gilbert started walking again.

"You still want to see me after all of this is over?"

"I cannot see why not."

"I gave you a hickey, for one."

Matthew laughed.

"I thought it was a 'love bite'."

He expected Gilbert to laugh with him but he shook his head and muttered instead.

"You know, I'm really starting to think that it was."

* * *

"This is me," Matthew said as Gilbert put him down on the porch. He hissed under his breath as his ankle ached and throbbed. "Thank you."

"Anytime." Gilbert gifted him with another pointed smile and Matthew gave into his impulse to touch his incisors. He reached forward and Gilbert grabbed his wrist to stop him. The two of them stared at each other for a moment before Gilbert nodded and guided his fingers to one of his teeth.

He jumped a bit when the tip of his finger pricked the tooth and began bleeding but did not take his eyes off of Gilbert. Instead, he offered him the digit.

It was a dare and Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?"

"No," Matthew laughed and it sounded breathless, "but I want to."

Gilbert wrapped his lips around his finger and sucked. Matthew had been asleep the first time he drew blood but now he regretted it. This felt…

Amazing.

Gilbert slid his mouth up and down over the digit and made the gesture obscene as he licked and sucked and Matthew trembled. His knees felt weak.

Gilbert let go of his finger with a wet popping sound and kissed the back of his hand like a gentleman. It was firmly at odds with the previous sucking.

"Ahaha…" Matthew was still catching his breath. "I should go."

"Yes."

Neither of them moved.

"I should go to bed." He tried to reach for the doorknob but his hands were not cooperating.

"Yes."

"… You should kiss me."

"Yes!"

Gilbert wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. He smelt of worn pages and candles and the sweet tang of the blood just offered to him. He kissed Matthew with careful consideration of his fangs and Matthew melted into the kiss and taste of his own blood.

He pushed back when he finally needed to breathe because it certainly did not seem like Gilbert needed to.

"That was… I liked that."

"Me too." Gilbert grinned. "We should do it again."

Matthew glanced towards the lightening sky. Dawn was coming and although he was not sure if the legends were true, he did not want to find out.

"Later. Can I 'trespass' again, if it is not too much of a bother?"

"Fuck yes."

Matthew laughed and gave him another quick kiss.

"Tonight?"

"Tonight."

Another kiss and another between small whimpers and moans.

"I'll see you there."

And just like that Matthew was alone on the porch. He was not sure if Gilbert had run so fast that he missed him or if it was another vampire flair altogether. It did not matter, though. All that mattered is that he would be seeing him again.

He turned his face into the wind and breathed in the cold.

Matthew was loath to admit that he might actually _owe_ his brother for this little misadventure; his ridiculous dare had turned out to be a favour.

Damn.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_

_Happy Halloween! 'Tis time for the pagan new year. This holiday is bigger than Christmas for my family because, well, we are pagan. This piece has been sitting on my computer for months but I decided to finish it and post it for the season. _

_So… I used to think that I was the only one who chanted "I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life" under my breath until I saw the pilot episode of Futurama. The main character does the same in the first five minutes of the episode and, all of a sudden, I did not feel so alone._

_In my mind, the werewolf and incubus mentioned here would be Spain and France, in that order. Oh, the chaos and supernatural adventures! I suppose the mate mentioned would be Hungary and the vampire she left him for would be Austria (who would suit that 'classic' vampire style much better than our Prussia). Perhaps the vampire that turned Prussia was Russia. That would be a dark tale, I am sure._

_I might write other one shots for this because I left it sort of open ended. It seems that there is a lot left to learn about Prussia and what it means to be a vampire, pair bonding, his own family. What about Canada and the bullying at school? If nothing else, what was his brother's reaction to the 'love bite'? It seems like a fun universe to write in._

_Yes, I have been missing in action. My grandmother passed away and since then I have also started a mental health program. Whoot! I have been really unstable and even thought of disappearing from the internet altogether but… Wow. There are so many of you that are compassionate and supportive; so many of you seem to actually care. Every review I receive buoys my spirit and makes me smile. It's amazing and it would be silly to squander such a wonderful gift so… Here I am (more or less)._

_A quick message to those left waiting: I hope to send proper replies this weekend. That includes you, Mayurei 13 (thank you for the beautiful pictures and, of course, the words of encouragement), DarkmoonSigel (thank you so much for the birthday present), and Tweaks (thank you for the reviews and your infinite patience). I love you all. _

_**Please leave a review and feel free to offer opinions, advice, or criticism. All are welcome. You are free to leave an anonymous review, I do not mind, just please let me know what you think of this piece.**_


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